Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: Hostage Exchange and Silver Knights
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The movements of the Duke family's soldiers came to an immediate halt.
In the face of this utterly unforeseen situation, their minds blanked out, leaving them clueless on how to respond.
"Oh? Think this is some kind of game?"
Kiririk!
At their sluggish reaction, Saladin's finger twitched, drawing Mimi's tongue blade even closer to the Duke's neck.
As Mimi's tongue blade vividly licked across the Duke's nape, a thin trickle of blood seeped from his neck.
"S-Stop that!"
Only after seeing their lord's blood did the soldiers snap back to their senses, frantically lowering their weapons.
"Get that filthy blade away from His Excellency the Duke right now! Haven't we done exactly as you said?!"
A knight clad in ornate armor shouted at Saladin. He was clearly the one in charge of the Duke's forces.
"You lot over there—the Ain tribe kids. Hand them all over. Then we'll release your master."
"Don't talk nonsense! How can we trust the likes of you?! If anything, you release His Excellency first!"
The knight's response was predictable. In this scenario where the Duke's forces were outnumbered, letting them snatch the hostages and then renege would spell disaster for the Duke's house.
Saladin's finger pointed at the man in charge.
"Have all your troops drop their weapons and fall back. Then you come to the center with the kids. We'll only have me and this lycanthrope here."
Saladin gave a nod to Ash and the other Ain tribesfolk, who slowly retreated toward the entrance.
Step by step.
Saladin gave the Duke's forces no time to think.
The longer they deliberated and the more time they had to react, the more trouble it would cause on this side.
The Duke's reinforcements could arrive any moment. He seems to think they're not from the Empire, but that's impossible. It's been days already—plenty of time for them to get here. No time to waste.
He had to wrap this up fast while the Duke's troops were still flustered and confused.
As Saladin moved, he could see the man in charge scrambling to gather the children.
Soon, the responsible knight arrived at the center with one other knight in tow.
"We've brought all the Ain tribe kids as you demanded. Now, His Excellency the Duke..."
"Grrr. Five are missing. I smell them underground."
At Baukalrak's words—brought along precisely for this contingency—Saladin turned to the knight.
"He says that. Bring them quick. Pull any more stunts, and it won't end well for you."
"...Understood."
The knight's face twisted like he'd bitten into dung, but he signaled to his subordinate. Moments later, the remaining Ain tribe children emerged.
Swoosh!
Saladin nodded to Baukalrak, who gave a slight dip of his head in confirmation.
"Good. Send two-thirds of the kids over here first. We'll escort those ones to the exit, then swap the rest for the Duke."
Now fully aware that they held the knife by the handle, the knight sent the children over without protest.
Once the first batch reached the exit, Saladin flicked his finger, offering the Duke—draped over Mimi's shoulder.
"Alright. Now you lot come here."
After confirming the remaining children crossed over, the Duke's body was handed to the knight.
Done. The immediate fire's out.
A look of relief finally washed over Saladin's face.
With unknown reinforcements of dubious strength and numbers incoming, he couldn't afford to drag the Ain tribesfolk into the mess—not if he wanted to fulfill Jerome's request.
Just as they prepared to escape the Duke's estate with the children in tow...
"Well, well. Looks like heretics in need of enlightenment right here."
A clear, resonant voice—yet laced with an eerie chill—rang out.
Shuuuak!
A sinister silver gleam shot toward Saladin's nape.
"Graaaang!"
Baukalrak, at Saladin's side, instinctively sensed the killing intent and swung his rock-hard forepaw at the flash.
Claaang!
A harsh metallic screech echoed as the silver gleam targeting Saladin revealed itself.
It was a man clad in pristine silvery-white armor.
"Heh, you blocked that? Not just some dumb beast, then."
Not shocked by Baukalrak's raw power, but by his own sword being halted, the man reverently licked the bead of blood on his blade.
Slurp, slurp! Sluuuuurp!
"...What the hell is this psycho?"
Saladin muttered in disbelief, but his eyes stayed glued to the man.
Even if it was a sneak attack, he hadn't reacted in time. And that blood—it came from the indomitable Baukalrak's forepaw.
...If not for Baukalrak, that strike might've killed me just now.
This madman before him was no ordinary foe.
"Blood is the essence created by the Lord. Even if it's from filthy heretics, it's still one of His creations. Not a single drop should be wasted."
After licking every trace of Baukalrak's blood from his blade, the man—lips stained crimson—fixed his gaze on Saladin.
"You there, and that grotesque puppet beside you. Users of Heterogenous Powers, eh? Powers that aren't the great aura or magic bestowed by the Lord—twisted, abominable forces. Using such filthy power."
Sneer!
"You'll need... enlightenment."
Blood-smeared teeth gleamed in the man's wide grin.
"Wh-who are those people?"
Duke Alvans, who had dodged the clash by retreating deeper into the garden, asked urgently.
There were no knights that strong in the Alvans Ducal House—or even in the Kingdom of Sharon.
Had such knights been under his command, he could've repelled the invasion even with the non-humans backing the king.
"W-we don't know either, milord..."
Even his own clansmen were clueless about these reinforcements.
That left only one answer.
"Fortuna! Is Fortuna here?!"
"You called for me?"
At the Duke's frantic shout, an elderly man in black robes—Fortuna—stepped out from the shadows.
"Hohoho. How do they strike you, Your Excellency? Quite reassuring, aren't they?"
Smirk!
Fortuna had summoned these reinforcements for the Duke's house, yet for some reason...
Duke Alvans felt a chill crawl down his spine at the man's smile.
"For Your Excellency's sake, I reached out to the sturdiest backer among my contacts. They'll cut down those insolent fools on the king's side in one fell swoop."
At Fortuna's words, the Duke's gaze shifted forward.
Knight in blindingly white armor were pressing Saladin and the Ain tribesfolk hard.
C-could it be...
They looked young at a glance. That formidable power on display from the knights. Few could wield such skill at that age.
From his vast experience handling countless slaves, the Duke knew their identity boiled down to one possibility.
As if reading the Duke's growing dread...
A grotesque smile crept across Fortuna's lips.
"Hohoho. With skills like theirs, the price won't be cheap. Hmm... My compensation is already approved by Your Excellency."
Fortuna crouched and whispered into the Duke's ear.
"Theirs? We'll have His Majesty settle up after this is over. Hohoho."
Pfuuut! Pfuuut!
"Graaaang!"
Elven arrows, along with the lycanthropes' razor-sharp fangs and claws, targeted the knights' vitals.
"For the Lord!"
"Purge the heretics!"
Yet the Third Holy Knight Order's knights swung their blades with bloodshot eyes, as if possessed—undeterred by fangs sinking into flesh, claws raking wounds, or arrows piercing their bodies. Eradicating the enemy before them was their sole earthly mission.
"Urk! These mad humans!"
Terrified by their fanatical zeal, the Ain tribesfolk began falling back one by one.
Then—
Kwaaaang!
An arrow infused with spirit energy far stronger than any ordinary elf's pierced a knight clean through.
"Graaaang!"
Crush!
A massive wolf with a mottled mane—head and shoulders taller than the other lycanthropes—smashed the knight's skull.
"Pull yourselves together!"
A roar brimming with primal fury. And spirit energy in abundance.
These twin forces steadied the wavering hearts of the Ain tribesfolk.
Even with their wounds not fully healed, Ash and Baukalrak's power was enough to inspire unshakeable faith in their kin.
Right then.
Flash!
Ash and Baukalrak swiftly dodged the immense energy bearing down from above.
Boooom!
The spot they'd occupied just moments ago melted away without a trace.
"I'll handle you two."
Perhaps sensing the shifting tide, a sinister-looking mage hovered leisurely in the air.
Pfuuut!
Ash loosed an arrow the instant he spotted the mage.
Squelch! Squelch!
It embedded in the mage's outstretched left arm, its force draining away in a heartbeat.
As if sunk into bottomless quicksand.
"From the look of it, you two must be the Ain tribe leaders. That energy suggests prime specimens."
The mage turned casually, a flicker of killing intent in his eyes.
"...I'd love to stuff that trash who took everything from me into formaldehyde and mount him, but..."
Mage Zildre shelved the thought. Judah, captain of the Third Holy Knight Order, was the real deal despite his shattered sanity.
A puppeteering pervert like that would dissolve into a puddle of gore under Judah's blade.
Thus, Zildre boldly abandoned Saladin and turned his attention here.
"For now, capturing you for experiments takes priority."
Toolifying superior Ain tribe specimens like these would advance His Lord's dream immeasurably.
"Ha! Hilarious. No idea who you are, old man, but you think it'll go your way?"
Wuuung!
A spirit-infused arrow hurtled toward Zildre's throat.
"Useless."
He extended his left arm to block as before.
Boom!
"?!"
Zildre's eyes bulged as his left arm exploded into shreds.
Ash scanned the surroundings. The knights were fierce, but Miron and Misha were holding the line admirably.
Meaning the battle's turning point was right here.
"Old man, even injured, you think we can't handle one like you? Big mistake."
The same went for Baukalrak. Neither had fought solely from positions of perfect health.
If they couldn't overcome wounds like these, they'd have long since perished in some mountain pass.
Shrrrrk!
Zildre regenerated his blasted arm and spoke to Ash.
"Impressive move. But that's all. Surrender quietly—it'll minimize your suffering."
"What?"
"The knight that whelp's facing is an Empire-bred monster of the next generation. No greenhorn without pedigree can handle him."
Zildre clenched and unclenched his restored left fist, flashing a vile smile.
"Thrash about with all your might. Once that fight ends, your fates are sealed."
"...Ha!"
Deflated sighs escaped Ash and Baukalrak.
They saw this as the battle's crux for a simple reason.
To give Saladin—sent by Jerome—a situation worthy of him, they needed to "handle" this themselves.
And that meant zero doubt about Saladin's front.
"You're the clueless one. Calling that guy a whelp proves it."
Kkuuk!
Ash nocked an arrow, while Baukalrak's hind legs bulged with power.
Zildre's eyes narrowed slightly at the pair's utter disregard for the "puppet whelp."
He'd clashed with that kid before. He knew his combat prowess better than anyone.
The image of him fleeing, unable even to handle one arm, was still fresh.
Yet here they were, utterly convinced the whelp would beat Judah.
Something I don't know?
The thought flickered briefly, but Zildre shook it off.
"...Interesting."
Impossible. Even if hiding something, the foe was Judah—no less.
Anyone who knew the true might of this era's genius couldn't be so nonchalant.
But whatever Zildre said or thought, Ash and Baukalrak had no intention of trading barbs any longer.
As mentioned, this was their battle's turning point.
Pfipipipit!
Paaang!
Ash's arrows and Baukalrak's hulking frame lunged for Zildre's life.
"Insolent fools!"
Shwaaaaak!
Zildre's left hand lashed out for the lives of the Ain tribe's young powerhouses.
Each driven by conviction and desired ends.
In the darkness ushered by the setting sun, the Alvans Ducal estate gradually reeked of blood and slaughter.